ARIES (March 21-April 19): Dung beetles were considered sacred and lucky by the ancient Egyptians. In fact, the seemingly lowly insect, also known as a scarab, was worshiped as a symbol of transformation and resurrection, in part because it derives its nourishment from the waste matter of other animals. Since it also pushes balls of dung to its nest, it was thought to resemble the god Ra rolling the sun through the heavens. During the coming week, Aries, the scarab will be your power animal. May it inspire you to turn crap into treasure as you're reborn from the deadness of the past.
TAURUS (April 20-May 20): It took an English woman named Venida Crabtree 33 years to learn how to drive. She failed her first driving test at age 17, but never gave up trying. Last year she finally succeeded, getting her first license at the age of 50. She's your role model, Taurus. There's a good chance that like her, you will soon be able to master a task or reach a goal that you've been plugging away at forever.
GEMINI (May 21-June 20): I'm here at San Francisco's Samovar Tea Lounge to meditate on your horoscope. I've decided that the beverage most likely to put me in the right mood is "Monkey-Picked Iron Goddess of Mercy" tea. That's because my analysis of your astrological omens reveals that there'll be something both steely and soft about your immediate future, both willful and delicate. "Iron Goddess of Mercy" is an apt metaphor for the influences you should seek. Furthermore, I suspect you'll need the intervention of an agile and vibrant animal energy, which is suggested by the "Monkey-Picked" aspect of the tea. Using the Samovar menu as a divinatory tool for generating even more oracular information, I've come up with three additional phrases to capture the quality of your life in the coming days: velvety nuances of roasted chestnuts and eucalyptus ; tastes that are zealously smoky yet gossamer and satiny ; and not for the sinless .
CANCER (June 21-July 22): As a Cancerian, you're sometimes prone to indulging in pathological levels of self-sufficiency. You can get into the bad habit of making it hard for people to give you emotional support, constructive feedback, and plain old ordinary gifts. That's why I hesitate to say anything that might encourage you to get into a woe-is-me, I-have-to-do-everything-myself mode of heroic martyrdom. Nevertheless, I've decided to take that risk. To achieve the breakthrough that's now available, you may have to take what Ernest Hemingway described as the path to greatness: Push yourself "far out past where you can go, out to where no one can help you."